Daphne
by Ennya
Summary: Godfrey, separated from his troop, finds refuge in a simple forest village, where a young huntress catches his eye. GodfreyXOC.
1. Chapter 1

*I do not own Robin Hood. I do not make any money writing this story*

A/N: I find the lack of Godfrey fanfiction disturbing. I'm gonna do my part to help the situation. :P Hope you like!

**Daphne**

**Chapter One**

/

Dismounting his horse, Godfrey removed his riding gloves and made slow, steady way towards the creek. Listening to the sounds of the woods around him, to the birds calling and the trees breathing, and the gentle gurgle of the stream, he bent down to dip his dirt-caked hands into the freezing water, bringing them up briefly and rubbing them together to wash them clean. He rose his eyes to survey the woods around him, the air cold and the mist lingering in the trees. Godfrey was lost.

It had been an intolerable couple of hours. Having been stationed at camp far from Barnsdale, awaiting the King's army from France to make their way into the heart of England, his brigade had picked up to move out of the woods and towards the road that would take them to Barnsdale. But, once they were on their way, Godfrey, who had been lagging behind, had spotted what he believed to be a messenger riding through the woods. Pulling away from the troop, he had seen that it was obviously not a messenger but a doe frolicking in the clearing, and once he had gone back to rejoin the brigade, they had disappeared into the trees.

It seemed utterly preposterous. He was leading them, after all, throughout the country to collect taxes for King John, how could they even think to continue on without him? How had not one of them noticed he was absent from the party and declared they should all stop and search for him? How on earth did he get lost in the first place? It was because of the damned forest, endless trees and hills and moss. It played tricks on the mind and led Godfrey further and further away from his brigade. It had been a complete waste of both time and energy.

Sighing heavily, in both exasperation and anger, Godfrey shook his clean hands relatively dry and, as he stood, he balled them together and rose them to his mouth to warm them. Turning his gaze this way and that, he tried to think of a solution to this most ridiculous conundrum he was in. Would he head for the road and hope to meet them? It seemed plausible that they should ride to meet him, but he had no idea where the road even was, forget the direction in which to ride towards. Seemed whichever way he turned and looked, he was leading himself further and further into the deep woods and farther and farther away from civilization, and thus, his brigade.

Godfrey seemed to remember having packed a map of the area, hidden somewhere in his saddlebag. He figured it would be the best place to begin, now that he was helplessly lost. He turned towards his horse when suddenly a very peculiar sound caught his acute attention.

It was the sound of an arrow, piercing the freezing air, whizzing past his left ear, and Godfrey turned his head sharply and backed up towards his horse, his eyes roving the open ground for any sign of an aggressor. He reached with his right hand for the sheath tied to his horse's saddle, where his sword sat sleeping, and careful not to make even the slightest crunch under his boots, he continued to look amongst the trees for a figure, and continued to listen for another arrow.

It came again, a second arrow flying sharply through the air, and Godfrey grabbed the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it, holding it at the ready, surveying the area. He knew the archer could not be far, as the arrow was close range, he could tell it had not landed far. The archer was obviously taking aim at him.

Godfrey gripped the hilt with both hands and took a step forward. Behind him his horse whinnied nervously, and Godfrey knew he was not alone.

All of a sudden, a great thundering sound erupted from behind him, and turning on his heel and readying his sword, Godfrey was shocked at first to see a great stag come running through the woods, breaking out of the cold air, and fleeing past him without even a care. Godfrey turned to watch the magnificent animal splash across the creek and climb up the slight hill, disappearing into the trees. He could see the silhouette of the creature's antlers through the mist for only a little while, and then it was gone.

Godfrey settled a little, easing his tense shoulders, for there was still the matter of the archer, if the archer remained nearby, which seemed more than plausible. But the more he listened, the quieter the woods became, and there were no more sounds of arrows or animal hooves. He resolved to sheath his sword and return to the matter at hand: getting himself to the nearest road for any hopes of rejoining his party.

But just as he turned towards his horse, another figure came bounding out of the trees before him, blinding his peripheral vision; two heavy feet planted into the soil beside him, and Godfrey, with his lightning reflexes, rose his sword to defend himself against a possible attack, not surprised in the least to hear the all too familiar metallic _clang _as his sword collided with another.

Godfrey came face to face with his attacker, a wide-eyed young hunter, holding no more then a simple hunting knife to defend himself against Godfrey's great sword.

Godfrey mustered a scowl as threatening as he could manage for the young hunter who had dared to take aim at him, promising in his mind that the hunter was in for a world of pain, but as his trained eyes searched his attacker's face for a sign of weakness, he was taken aback by the sight of strawberry-blonde hair that he had assumed was cut short until he saw the locks were pulled back into a long braid.

Godfrey felt his scowl lift. It wasn't a young hunter at all. It was a young woman.

Truly Godfrey was as surprised to see her as she was surely surprised to see him. She stood tall but was lithe and slender in the limbs. The dirt smudges on her lovely white face did not steal his gaze away from her mystifying eyes, green as the forest that surrounded them, as she stared back at him with a gaze of both fear and fearlessness.

While they both maintained their position, it seemed unclear as to who would step down first. While this girl had only a hunting knife, she had been silent enough moving through the woods that Godfrey did not doubt she had other hidden skills she might not mind exercising in the presence of a potential enemy. She did not falter her gaze on him, and while that normally would have irritated him, Godfrey was more curious in her defiance then irritated.

"Are you hunting me, nymph?" Godfrey inquired, his voice emitting from his throat as smooth as silk.

The girl shook a little, as though she had never heard a man's voice before, but refusing to falter she pressed her pink lips together and continued to stare at him. It was obvious to Godfrey's observation that she was trembling but trying hard to stand her ground.

"I was after a stag," she spoke at last, fluently, like music, but strong and determined. "Did it come this way?"

Godfrey snorted lightly in his throat, resisting the urge to smile, and took a step back, drawing his sword away from her knife, and watched her expression change with surprise. He knew that, since she was after the stag and clearly not after him, she would not have the will to attack him, and he had no desire to strike against a young woman; even if she chose to attack him, it didn't matter how skilled she may have been, she was clearly no match against him. Nevertheless, she watched him intently, as though convinced he was going to pounce and strike at any moment, and she must always be on guard.

Godfrey saw that she was terrified of him.

"It came, and it's gone." he answered, referring to the stag she was after, and gestured to where he had seen the animal disappear. "Into higher ground."

Drawing her eyes away from him for only a moment, she looked to where he was intimating, her eyebrows knitting together. Slowly she lowered her knife to her side and let out a defeated sigh. She shook her head dismally, swearing under her breath, and turning to look back at Godfrey, she carefully sheathed her hunting knife on her belt. Her eyes did not falter from his gaze. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

Godfrey eyed her mischievously as he went to his horse and replaced his sword in its sheath. If only she knew what atrocities he'd committed in the past. Being alone in the woods was of no concern to him, aside from the fact he was lost. "And why might that be?"

She stared up at him with an unimpressed look on her face. "These woods are home to the most vicious wolves in all England. They prowl on lone travellers, night and day."

Godfrey couldn't help but smile, touched by her guarded concern for his well-being. He had no doubt that if faced with a pack of wolves, he would have been quite capable of handling himself.

It occurred to him, almost immediately, that if she was warning him against the possible dangers of the area, she must have known it well herself. So he decided to take the chance to make inquiries.

He turned towards her and fitted his hands into his gloves while she stared at him like she had never seen a man before. His gaze flitted up and down her form for a moment; she was dressed in a simple hunter's vest and trousers made of brown leather, with long boots that stretched up past her knees. For the first time he noticed the longbow that was flung over her shoulder. She seemed thin but he could see her forearms were toned and so he assumed she was fit for life in the forest.

"Obviously you know the land, for it moves silently beneath you. Is there a town nearby?" Godfrey knew if there was a town nearby, there would be a road in which to find the rest of his brigade.

The girl tensed, as though hesitant to reveal such information, but then she turned towards the hill from where she had first appeared and raised her arm. "There's a village over these hills, beyond the trees."

She took a moment to examine him; she must have come to the conclusion that he was a wandering traveler in need of rest, albeit a fairly threatening-looking traveler. "You'll find room and board there."

Godfrey looked to where she was pointing, and although it occurred to him to ride and take her direction, he had already gotten himself more lost then he cared to admit and didn't want to risk getting himself lost any further. Looking back at the girl, he gestured with the nod of his head. "Will you show me the way?"

The request seemed to shock her, for her eyes widened considerably, and she looked away to hide the expression on her face, which amused Godfrey. She was obviously hesitant, and she swallowed tightly and crossed her arms. It made Godfrey want to laugh. She had every right to be frightened of him, but he was in no mood to be a menace, and certainly not if there was drink and hot food in this town she hailed from. The thought of hot food and warming drink on a bitterly cold day soothed him, and he was anxious for it, especially in light of his frustrations.

Finally she sucked a breath in through her teeth. "All right."

Godfrey managed a small, pleasant smile and mounted his horse in one fluent motion. His horse stomped impatiently on the mossy ground, and turning towards the girl who moved to follow, he gripped the reins with his left hand and extended his right hand out to her.

She paused as though he had pulled a weapon on her, and she looked up into his hazel eyes in great surprise, motioning as though ready to spring back and run in the opposite direction. She looked to him for an explanation.

Godfrey waited patiently, holding his gaze with her. "Come, I'll not let a lady walk should there be a horse to carry her."

She was mistrustful, and eyed the horse as though she'd never seen one before and didn't dare mount it. She shook her head eagerly. "Thank you, but no. I...prefer to walk."

Godfrey chuckled a little deep in his throat. "It's a cold day, milady, and you've been shaking since the moment we clashed our blades. Best we arrive quickly so you may get warm."

He saw the colour rush to the apples of her cheeks and it gave him some amusement that she was embarrassed. But indeed she was shivering, holding her arms to her body, and she looked towards the forest and then down at her dirty boots, a clue that the town was almost too far away to go on foot. Godfrey continued to wait patiently, enjoying her discomfort, but still held out his hand for her to take.

Finally, after much deliberation, took the longbow from her shoulder and approached the horse steadily. First Godfrey took the longbow from her and placed it strategically against the saddle so that it would not fall loose, and then turning back to the girl she rose her white hand to accept his offer.

Smiling mischievously to himself, Godfrey enveloped her delicate hand in his fist and hauled her up as though she weighed nothing, which made her gasp.

Delighting in her discomfort of the situation, Godfrey pulled her up and observed the shocked look on her face as he planted her snugly in the saddle in front of him. She tensed up, and for a moment he was positive she was going to jump right off and make a run for it. But a moment passed and she remained still, and the heat of her body was a welcome warmth to him, and suppressing a smile, Godfrey wound his arms around her frame to tightened the reins about his hands and motioned with his thighs for the horse to climb up and hill, and so they made their steady way through the trees.

/

The entire horseback ride back to town was in silence, for Reagan knew she had either done something fairly wise or, alternatively, very stupid. She sat in the saddle of this man's horse, with her back flush against his chest, gripping the horn of the saddle with both hands as his arms circled around her as he held the reins of his horse. It frightened her more then seeing the telltale glowing of wolf eyes in the dead of the night through the trees, but it also excited her more than anything she had experienced before.

When she had encountered him, this man in black, while running after the stag who she had missed with two finely crafted arrows, she had no intention of hurting him, unless of course he made move to hurt her in turn. Quite the contrary: she hadn't been able to take her eyes away from him. Reagan had never seen a man quite like him; very tall and muscular, mysterious, with not a hair on his head and such distinctive facial features, that which included a rather angry-looking scar along his left cheek, and he was very handsome in a none too conventional way. He was dressed in clothes as black as pitch, with a horse as black as the dead of night, and although there was something about his aura she did not trust, he had been courteous enough, and that was hard to come by.

They rode on through the vast trees in silence; all that could be heard was the heavy gallop of the horse's hooves on the wet ground, and the pounding of her heart as it slammed against her chest. Reagan drew in careful breaths and stared ahead, feeling the hotness of his breath tumble down the back of her neck, and she shivered.

They were riding for no more than ten minutes when the forest began to clear and the grass turned into a steady road of flattened dirt. Reagan rose her head and saw the misty snakes of smoke slither their up into the frosty air. They were close enough.

Gathering all the courage she could muster, she turned over her shoulder and spoke at last. "Sir, if you'll let me down, I'll show you the rest of the way."

He made a sound in his throat that sounded like a suppressed laugh. "What an impertinence to a lady. We're nearly there, I'll escort you."

"No, sir." Reagan said quite forcefully, and set her hand down against his which held the reins. At this, the man at her back slowed the horse to a simple trot, and Reagan turned to look up at him, into his dark eyes that stared her down. "You do me too much honour. Please, let me down. I'll alert them to your arrival."

He regarded her silently. How strange for a lady to go running through such dangerous woods and yet be so skittish in the presence of a man who was, against all odds, determined to be quite the gentleman. Her nervousness delighted him, for he had always had such an effect on women, but nevertheless he slowed the horse to a gentle stop and dropped the reins. He rose his right hand out, palm up, as though offering her the way. "As you wish."

With piercing green eyes she gave him a fierce look and let herself down, her feet landing hard against the cold ground. She retrieved her longbow from where it sat against the saddle and when she looked up at him she had on her face an expression as hard as steel, as though she knew there was something mistrustful about him. She looked down towards the village and raised her arm to point. "Ride into the square."

And with that, she left his side and hurried ahead of him, carrying the longbow along beside her. Godfrey smiled and motioned his horse to follow her down into the village, his eyes set on her back until he came up over a hill and down into the village.

The village was nestled in a dipped clearing of the forest, surrounded by trees; Godfrey observed large, handsome wooden houses with brick chimneys, finely built stables, and barns for livestock. Godfrey surveyed the area carefully; the people seemed no more then hunters, blacksmiths, and farmers. All around there were children running and laughing, people going about their business doing chores and working. As he entered the village, all eyes turned towards him and stared as though they too had never seen a man quite like him before.

They were not impoverished folk, Godfrey concluded, for their surroundings seemed well kept and they themselves well fed and fairly clean. Perhaps the taxation officers had not collected from them yet.

The hooves of his horse made heavy sounds as they were met with the cobblestoned square, and Godfrey noticed the road in which he as now trotting on. Looking up he saw the road stretched up over the hill and into a clearing. He couldn't help but smile; if this road led to the main road, surely his brigade would think to infiltrate the village before pressing on to Barnsdale; surely they wouldn't continue on without him.

Godfrey's horse was beginning to slow as the road stopped and Godfrey turned his attention back towards the girl. She had led him directly towards one of the largest houses in the village, and he watched as she was literally pulled into an embrace by a jovial, heavy-set man, who had emerged from the house, and whom Godfrey assumed to be her father, judging how she returned his embrace with equal enthusiasm. Godfrey approached steadily.

"My dear, my dear," chimed the older gentleman with a deep voice, laughing as the girl separated from his embrace. "You never cease to amaze me! Here I expected you back with the meat and pelt of a stag and here you've brought us a knave!" The old man laughed, holding out his hands in Godfrey's direction, as though he were an old friend being welcomed back to their village. Godfrey moved his horse forward.

"Come, gentle good fellow! You are most welcome here!" The old man was red-faced and red-headed, and had a booming laugh to meet his booming voice. He stepped forward to place a giant hand on the neck of Godfrey's horse and rose his big brown eyes up to Godfrey. "I say, my son, have you been traveling these woods alone?"

Godfrey hesitated a moment, not sure whether he should reveal he was lost; such a statement seemed an indignant confession to his person. But they seemed to be simple enough people that the truth wouldn't compromise him in his somewhat fragile position.

"I have, good sir. I was separated from my riding party." Godfrey admitted graciously, politely as he could, and rose his eyes to the girl, who was presently washing her hands at a trough just behind the old man. "Your...huntress was kind enough to guide me here."

At mention, the young lady rose her eyes to meet Godfrey's gaze, with something like apprehension written across her face at having been mentioned, a look to which Godfrey only returned with a neutral gaze.

The old man laughed, looking over his shoulder at the girl. "Yes, yes. Reagan finds the most surprising of things, don't you my dear?"

Godfrey watched as the girl, Reagan, smiled reservedly at the old man and glimpsed up at Godfrey for only another moment, as though afraid to meet his gaze. Godfrey couldn't help but smile to himself a little. Reagan; the name suited her perfectly.

"Come, good sir." Boomed the old man, pulling Godfrey's attention away. "Give us a name we may call you by."

He was tempted to give a false name, but he assumed no danger would come to him by identifying himself properly amidst such simple forest folk. He smiled cautiously, looking again at Reagan, who's attention was turned down to her hands but he could tell by the way her head was slightly turned that she was listening for his name.

"Godfrey." He said at last, clearly, and observed the most subtle movement from Reagan after having heard his name.

The old man nodded his head, making an approving sound in his throat. "Godfrey, a good name, a strong name. I am Theodore, and this is my village." He held out his arms as if to showcase his village like it was a booming metropolis and he was its king. Nevertheless, Godfrey smiled politely. Twas always refreshing to see a man proud of his country. "You are welcome to stay as long as you wish!"

Godfrey couldn't help but feel relieved. Although he wasn't entirely keen on the idea of spending too much time with these simple peasant folk, the idea of hot food, drink, and a bed to sleep in was far more welcoming then wandering idly through the woods. Besides, his brigade needed to come this way to head for Barnsdale, it was logical to just stay put and wait.

So Godfrey nodded courteously to Theodore. "You are too kind."

Theodore beamed and reached for the bridal of Godfrey's horse. "Tis not often we get visitors in these parts. Come, you are just in time to dine with us."

Godfrey smiled, the sound of food was especially welcomed at that moment. "I thank you."

Dismounting his horse, Godfrey walked alongside his horse as Theodore led them towards the nearest stable, past Reagan who continued to wash at the trough, as the old man was booming about how his horse would receive the best of horse hospitality. Eyes were on him from all directions as they walked, but it seemed as though they were more mystified by him then suspicious. Theodore had shown obvious signs of approval, and that seemed to be enough for them as well. It made Godfrey laugh to himself; such simple forest folk, if only they knew who he really was and what he was really up to.

/

**Like it? Hate it? **


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Very, very special thanks to **Amya, Anonymous, DraggonflyMaiden, **and **operaticbunny** for your reviews! Enjoy the update, a Christmas gift from me to you. :P

**Daphne**

**Chapter Two**

/

Godfrey hissed as he eased himself down into the vat of bath water, the hotness biting his skin for a moment until his skin adjusted to the heat and he let out a deep, blissful sigh. He couldn't remember the last time he bathed; his skin was caked with dirt and the smell of sweat and he was only too glad to be able to wash it all away, including the thoughts and humiliation that came with being so stupidly separated from his riding party.

True to Theodore's word, he had certainly been welcome. He had been shown the inn where he presumed he would stay, and Theodore ordered the innkeeper to run him a bath so he would be fresh and ready for dinner. He had then been handed over to the care and treatment of the innkeeper's pretty daughter, who had so carefully tested the water for him, so lovingly folded his clothes with a promise that they would be washed, and left the room in haste, but not before Godfrey spied the flush in the apples of her cheeks and the little smile on her kissable pink lips. Were she any other girl, and not the innkeeper's daughter, he would have most definitely invited her to join him in his bath.

He basked in the hot water, letting its warmth sooth his aching muscles and the chill in his bones; he would have gladly accepted a cup of wine to quieten the thoughts in his head, but he knew there would be wine aplenty at dinner. The water worked its magic instantly, cleansing him of the dirt and grime that caked him, and before long he was feeling fresh and clean and ready to go.

The innkeeper dressed him in loose clothing, very dark green in colour, very much the garb of peasants, and Godfrey fought not to wrinkle his nose at the sight of them. In London, all over England, people would see the inky black of his clothes and knew he was nobility. In these clothes, however light and flexible they may have been, he felt like nothing more than a common man, and it irked him deeply. But he tried not to let it show as he was led to the great hall in which the feast was already beginning.

It came as no real surprise to Godfrey that the little village dined together in the great hall, a solidly built structure made with finely carved wood, adorned with blazing fireplaces, and piles of hot food and drink covering every table surface. Godfrey was seated with Theodore as the guest of honour, for which he was relieved; he wouldn't have to make simple talk with the simple people. He did notice, somewhat gleefully, that they were serving what looked and smelled to be deer meat, and decided that they were hunting the game reserved strictly for the King. Perhaps Godfrey would return with the Sheriff, after he had relocated himself and his party.

"Well now Godfrey," Theodore exclaimed in his booming, friendly voice, having had far too much wine already and was continuing to pour it down his throat by the goblet. "Tell me, from where do you hail?

Godfrey nibbled at an olive that had been sitting neglected on his plate. "London, sir."

"Ah, a true city man. Are you a military man as well?"

Godfrey smirked to himself, wondering how they would all react if he revealed himself to be King John's chancellor, but taking up his goblet he only smiled. "Of a sort, milord."

That seemed to please Theodore enough, as he continued to drink his fill of wine. Godfrey surveyed the hall, blasting hot from the fireplaces, where all residents of the village, save for very small children, were having their fill of meat and wine, good stories and songs of days past. It made him frown a little; he had always preferred the calm, soothing sounds of a somewhat deserted castle back in London where he was able to collect his thoughts and make future plans. He would not have done well in such a small village, growing up with the same people his entire life. It wouldn't have suited him at all.

At that moment, Godfrey was startled nearly out of his seat as Theodore's voice thundered down around them. "Ah, Thomas my boy!"

Godfrey looked to see, to his surprise, that a young couple had approached the table. Godfrey's attention was instantly pulled to the young man, a very tall scrawny thing with red hair almost as red as Theodore's, with very delicate features and hard, judging eyes, judging eyes that were glaring down at him as though there was something about this man that he simply did not trust. Godfrey continued to hold the young man's glare as Theodore rose a goblet to them. "Never has my village seen such a glowing couple!"

Turning to Godfrey, Theodore slapped a massive hand on his shoulder. "Godfrey, allow me to introduce my son Thomas, he is the finest hunter in the village!"

Godfrey stood from his seat fluently, both to appear courteous when meeting Thomas, who continued to glare at him, as well to tower over the younger man and hopefully prove to be somewhat intimidating. Keeping his eyes hard on the young man's glare, Godfrey extended his hand but offered no words of greeting. The young man took his hand and shook graciously, but held his glare with Godfrey, something that the latter man regarded quite like unrequited detest.

"And of course," Theodore continued, promptly ignoring or oblivious to the discomfort between the two men. "You've met Reagan, my son's wife-to-be."

At the sound of her name, Godfrey's attention was suddenly drawn to the woman at Thomas's side, and he was shocked to see that indeed, it was her. But this was seemingly not the same young lady he had encountered in the woods, not the same woman who had shown such obvious mistrust of him. Her white face was washed clean, her green eyes illuminated in the firelight like rarest gems, and her strawberry blonde hair hung down loosely over her shoulders. She wore a light tea gown, deep green just as the tunic he wore. She had transformed.

Reagan offered Godfrey a small, sheepish smile and extended her hand so that he might take it. Godfrey made no hesitation in taking her hand, and never breaking from the stare of her green eyes, he lifted her hand to his lips.

"It's a pleasure," he murmured, and swept his lips over her knuckles, kissing them like a gentleman, and he could feel the slightest tremble of her hand.

"And you, sir Godfrey." Interrupted Thomas, speaking at last, with a rather unattractive, monotone voice, bringing Godfrey's attention away from Reagan so that he released the young woman's hand. "It's a miracle you made it through these woods alone."

Godfrey smiled gently and stole a glance at Reagan. "So I've been told."

For a moment it seemed Reagan would almost return his smile, but Thomas seemed adamant to keep up the conversation. "Were you a crusader?"

"Come now, Thomas!" The boom of Theodore's voice startled them. "Let's not interrogate the man, no doubt he's been through enough today to have to listen to your questions!"

Godfrey smiled down at Theodore, grateful for the first time that he'd interrupted.

But Thomas clearly had other things on his mind. Obviously mindful of his father's words, he offered Godfrey a very uninspired smile. "I would be honoured, good sir, if you would stay in my house tonight as my guest."

A red flag set off in Godfrey's head. He surely did not want to stay in this man's house and have to listen to the man's feeble, meddling conversations. So he graciously tipped his head like a true gentleman. "It is I who am honoured, but I fear it would be too much an imposition. Besides, I've already acquired lodging at the inn."

Thomas laughed an indignant, unattractive laugh. "Nonsense, I insist. Like father said, tis rare for us to receive guests. Reagan shall see to your every need, you have but to ask."

Godfrey rather liked the sound of that. He turned to look at Reagan, who quickly changed a shocked expression directed towards her future husband into a tight, uncomfortable smile towards Godfrey, as though she both loved and hated the idea.

Godfrey thought, wouldn't it be a delight to make this woman squirm in his presence? Take all the liberties of a house guest and be graced with her trembling, shocked presence at all hours of the day? He almost laughed right out loud, thoroughly enjoying the idea, but instead he just smiled grandly. "You're very kind, and I thank you."

Once the pleasantries had passed, and Thomas had masked his obvious dislike of the man with a delighted expression at the news that Godfrey would stay, they were permitted to sit and finish their meals. Godfrey could not deny that everything had been cooked to perfection, especially the deer meet, which was difficult to come by now that all deer were restricted to the hunting of King John. He had his fill of food and wine until he was full and comfortable, and the evening continued on as fruits and sweet wine was laid out for dessert, and the village people resumed their storytelling, dancing, and singing. At one moment Godfrey spotted Reagan drifting about the room going table to table with a pitcher of wine, filling the goblets of whomever would hold theirs up for refill, Theodore being the most popular one of the bunch.

Godfrey couldn't understand it. It was difficult to grasp that this was the same woman who had cornered him in the forest. In London, the upperclass women were dressed to perfection, to be seen rather than heard, whereas the peasant women were dirty and seemed older, despite their age. Strange to him that this girl was such a skilled huntress, who dressed and moved and spoke forcefully like a man in the forest, but transformed into a lovely hospitable lady in the evening.

"I don't suppose our little village is terribly pleasing to a Londoner," Thomas droned on, somewhat miserably, as he cut an apple with a switchblade at Godfrey's right side, his feet propped right up on the table. "We are but simple folk, with our hunting and our craftsmanship."

Godfrey could not help but feel he was being baited, and oh how he wanted to oblige; nothing would have brought him more delight then to inform Thomas of the taxations they would be met with, or who would pay the ultimate price for the deer they had hunted for dinner. But instead Godfrey decided to bide his time, relishing in the man's obliviousness.

He reached for his wine goblet. "London is dirty and crowded this time of year, it's good to get out in the fresh air."

"Hmm," Thomas made a noise of interest in his throat, but his demeanor remained unchanged. "Will you stay here long?"

Godfrey met the man's eyes with a glare and shook his head. "I'll await my party and I'll continue on."

"That's unfortunate," Thomas mumbled, and reached for his wine. "A guest who would stay with us awhile in the house would give Reagan some much-needed housekeeping practice."

Godfrey pulled his attention away to scan the room for Reagan, but it seemed she had escaped the room into the darkness. He reached for a grape idly, as though he had been deliberately about which one to pick. "Your fiancee is a skilled huntress, forgive my informality."

Thomas's expression seemed unchanged. "A skilled huntress she is indeed, but you can hardly raise children with a longbow."

Godfrey frowned, not overly surprised to hear a man speak of his future wife in such a way, but because they were both hunters he had expected they would both indulge such a skill set on their children. He found that he was increasingly disliking Thomas. "Have you had a long engagement?"

Thomas shrugged. "Nay, a year if it's a day."

That seemed to be the last Thomas would say on the matter, so Godfrey drank from his goblet and watched the fire, wondering just how long he was going to have to stay in this village, in the house of this ridiculous man, before he would surrender to the cold, terrible dangers of the surrounding woods.

/

It was late when the dinner party dissipated and Thomas escorted Godfrey to the house. Godfrey, stumbling in the darkness, was properly taken aback by the fine craftsmanship of the house, the staircase that met them when they first came in through the doors, and the stone fireplace that lay against the far wall. The entire house had a somewhat familiar and very homey feel to it.

Reagan was waiting for them in the main hall at the base of the staircase, holding a lit candelabra in her hand. Her expression was unreadable as they approached her.

"I'll say goodnight to you now," said Thomas dismissively to Godfrey. "Reagan will show you to your room."

Godfrey looked to Reagan, who smiled politely, and then nodded to Thomas. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Thomas nodded. "Goodnight."

Godfrey watched the man ascend the staircase, yawning loudly as he went, and Godfrey was not sad to see him go. The entire evening spent in that man's company had been more than Godfrey had bargained for. But he supposed for such hospitality he would have to put up with at least some sort of discomfort.

Thomas having disappeared into the upper level of the house, Godfrey turned his attentions to Reagan, who gestured for him to follow him. "This way."

They began down a hallway to the right of the main hall and Godfrey watched the light bounce off the wood around them and alight Reagan's hair as though it were spun gold. She walked him down to the end of the hallway, where she pushed open a door and disappeared inside. Godfrey followed promptly, surprised to find a good sized room was awaiting him, with a good bed, a window, a bedpan , and water and basin on the dressing table. Reagan set down the candelabra on the bedside table and allowed Godfrey to take in his surroundings.

Godfrey mused to himself. "Lavish quarters." He murmured, wanting to say it sarcastically but delighted when he turned to Reagan and saw her standing nervously in his presence. "Are you quite sure I'm not imposing?"

Fidgeting just slightly, Reagan swallowed tightly and shook her head. "Thomas wouldn't have it any other way. There are fresh bed clothes for you, and water and basin."

Godfrey surveyed these objects with mild interest as though he hadn't seen them when he first came in, and turning back to Reagan he nearly broke into a giant smile as he found she was creeping towards the door, as though anxious to leave. She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly and looked at him very seriously. "Do you require anything? Anything at all?"

Godfrey nearly laughed aloud but refrained just in time. If only she knew what response her words had encouraged in him, but instead he only smiled politely. "Yes, actually. I have a proposition."

Her eyes widened in appropriate alarm and she looked over her shoulder into the hallway, as though afraid Thomas was listening in on them. Nervously she turned her gaze back to Godfrey, who was smiling somewhat wickedly at her. "What might that be?"

He took a step towards her, slowly and calculating, and reveled as she regarded him anxiously. Godfrey held his smile as he looked down into her wide, questioning eyes. "Come riding with me tomorrow at dawn. Show me these woods you so delight in."

Reagan sucked in a perfectly alarmed breath, and once again she looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the hallway. Turning back towards Godfrey, who stared as he waited for his answer, she swallowed tightly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I...don't think my lord would approve, sir."

This time Godfrey did laugh. He was positively certain Thomas wouldn't approve, that was the whole point in the proposition. "Nonsense, a lady of the house would give a tour of the manor, so why not a tour of the grounds?"

Reagan blinked up at him as though he had trapped her; obviously she liked the idea of going riding in the morning, and perhaps she even liked the idea of going riding alone with _him_, but she knew that Thomas would never approve. Although, he would approve of her learning to be a hospitable housewife and housekeeper. Nevertheless, she remained silent and her eyes darted all about the room but would not rest on him. He had caught her completely off guard.

Delighting in her discomfort, he offered her a notable reason for his proposal. "It may be days until my party passes through this way, I need to exercise my mind until then."

It was partially true; Godfrey never was one to sit around and read on cloudy days. He was a man of conviction and needed to exercise his mind at many hours of the day to keep from going positively mad. He knew that riding in the woods with her would not only upset her fiancee, but he would have the chance to practice recognition of the forest and make plans for when he would return later with the Sheriff.

Finally, after a lengthy hesitation, Reagan turned towards him and nodded. "All right...until dawn then."

Godfrey smiled genuinely and bowed his head to her. "Until dawn."

Her green eyes were still in his vision and in his head long after she had left his room and shut the door behind him. Godfrey washed and retired, falling asleep with a nasty little smile on his face.

/

**A/N: A little short, but I hope you liked it nonetheless! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Very special thanks to **Leila, DraggonflyMaiden, Amya, **and **angelofcandy** for your reviews! Enjoy the chapter!

**Daphne**

**Chapter Three**

**/**

The moon had reached the highest point in the sky, pouring white silken light in through the window, just touching Reagan's fingers as she rested them on the quilts. Normally this time of night, Reagan would have been sound asleep, and the moonlight would have been a great source of comfort to her, enough to soothe her back to sleep if she woke from unpleasant dreams.

But not tonight. Reagan was wide awake, and the moon was her tormentor. In the room down the hall she could hear Thomas snoring loudly, having had too much wine at dinner, and she shivered just slightly to know that on the ground floor, just below her really, _that man _was probably sleeping quite soundly, completely unaware of the discomfort he had caused her.

She had spent the last three hours desperately trying to go to sleep; she twisted and turned, laid quietly to reflect how warm she was under the quilts and how pleasant the cool air felt on her face, but her fingers fidgeted and her legs twitched and her head was full of all sorts of meaningless thoughts. She was getting more and more annoyed, but she knew perfectly well the cause of her insomnia.

She had agreed to go riding - with _him_. As much as she knew it was a bad idea, she also knew that as soon as she saw the sun rise in the sky, she would leap to dress herself and go down to the stables. Reagan was never one to pass up riding in the woods, especially at dawn when you could hear all the voices of the forest awakening for the day, but the thought of riding with Godfrey made her heart flutter and her stomach sink. Thomas would find out, surely, when he woke late in the morning to find both his wife-to-be and his houseguest gone from plain sight.

But Godfrey had provided a good enough argument, and she was certainly going to put it to good use in the morning, when they would arrive home from their ride in the woods for breakfast.

Reagan repressed a smile and turned her face into the pillow. She couldn't deny it; she was looking forward to it.

/

Godfrey awoke an hour before dawn; his internal clock never failed him, and well rested from a pleasant sleep free of bad dreams, he rose from the bed to stretch his arms and look out the window, smiling as the thinnest of light began to glow across the sky.

He washed and dressed hastily with the water Reagan had left him and the clothes that had been provided for him, and carefully, as not to arouse the house, he crept through the downstairs hallway, just as the palest morning light was beginning to seep into the darkness, and without a sound he opened the front door and left the house.

Making his way across the lawn towards the stables, he was surprised to find that the entirety of the little village was apparently still in bed. He figured, for such simple forest folk, that they would have been awake at dawn, just as he was, and preparing for the day's chores. But he supposed long hours of sleep were needed after the incredible meal they had all had for dinner the night before.

Godfrey smiled, as he neared the stable, to find that it was lit. She had held to their agreement after all; for awhile, after Reagan had left him in his room the previous evening, he was positive that she wouldn't ride with him after all, that perhaps the threat of her husband finding out was just a little too real for her. He had suspected her reluctance before she had even voiced it, but he could also tell from the look in her eyes that she would enjoy nothing more than a ride at dawn.

Approaching the stable door, Godfrey pushed it open with the flat of his palm and was met with the early morning nellies of sleepy horses. He smiled widely as he recognized the silken smooth black face of his own horse, Agamemnon, staring at him from behind the confines of a box. He approached the horse and lovingly stroked his nose. It was then he noticed the saddle had been fastened on Agamemnon.

"He's very beautiful," came a voice behind him, soft and smooth, and Godfrey smiled just a little, to himself and quite wickedly, before he turned around.

Reagan stood there before him, dressed very much like she had been dressed the previous day, when they had encountered each other in the forest. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back once again, not in a braid, but a long ponytail, and her riding clothes seemed more fit for a stable boy, but Godfrey could not deny her face was just as pixie-like and her eyes were just as green. She nodded her head to him in proper greeting. "Good morning."

He returned the gesture gracefully. "Good morning."

Godfrey observed how she swallowed tightly and motioned to Agamemnon. "I took the liberty of saddling your horse for you, I hope I was not presumptuous."

He gave Agamemnon's nose another stroke, and shook his head with a very small smile. "Not at all, but he's usually very grumpy in the morning. I'm surprised you were able to saddle him."

Reagan smiled nervously and shrugged. "Perhaps he prefers a woman's touch, pardon my saying."

Godfrey nearly laughed aloud. He couldn't tell if she was trying to be flirtatious or if she had any idea really the innuendo behind her words. Either way, he knew he couldn't let it alone. "Not at all, I think given the opportunity I too would far prefer a woman's touch."

It must have been the way he said it, because the colour flushed into her face in an instant, and she turned away from him so he would not see, which made him want to laugh. She pretended to be busy by seeing to her own horse, a lovely champagne pearl stallion, who was far more even-tempered then Agamemnon on a good day. She gathered the reins, and turning to Godfrey, she motioned to the open doors so they might lead their horses out. "Shall we?"

Godfrey nodded, gathering Agamemnon's reins. "After you."

Reagan walked her horse out of the barn and Godfrey was surprised at how comfortable she seemed with the beast. He had known ladies of the court who were frightened to death of horses, and even some who liked to ride were not overly comfortable with them. Reagan led the champagne stallion forward, speaking lowly to him, as though this horse were a secret lover who doted on her every move, for he trotted beside her as if they were lovers, and going for an early morning ride was the most common thing in the world.

Godfrey couldn't help but chuckle to himself lowly. This place was full of surprises.

He led Agamemnon out of the barn, just as Reagan mounted her horse, and turning him around she looked down at Godfrey with an expectant look. "Which way do you care to ride, Sir Godfrey? There are denser trees in the West, and water in the East."

Godfrey didn't care in the least which direction they rode, but he looked around for a slow moment as though to convince her he was dwelling on the matter intensely. He mounted Agamemnon and turned towards her, and as she was giving him an expectant look. "The sun rises in the East."

A delicate little smile splayed across her pink lips, as though he had read her mind entirely, and gathering the reins in her hands she nodded. "We ride East, then."

Godfrey held out his hand, ushering her to lead the way, and she did so, still smiling.

They walked slowly away from the barn and out of the village. Godfrey turned at one point to look back and saw that finally the people were starting to emerge from their houses, stretching their arms, yawning, and preparing for the day. He couldn't help but think how amusing it would be for Thomas to wake up and find that both his wife-to-be and his houseguest had both mysteriously disappeared. Suddenly, he was quite disappointed he wouldn't be able to see his reaction.

The road turned to dirt going into the forest, and Reagan quickened her horse into a trot, and so Godfrey motioned for Agamemnon to follow suit. Godfrey was sure to stay behind her so she may lead the way, but as the trees began to crowd about them and the cold morning air began to rush at his face, Godfrey motioned Agamemnon to follower closer to her until they were almost side by side.

Godfrey watched Reagan, amazed at her ability to handle the horse and maneuver him about the woods, but he imagined that perhaps she had lived with the beast for a long time, perhaps they were used to each other by now. He noticed, within a few moments, how she quickened her horse into a fast-paced canter as the trees began to thicken and the mist began to get heavier, and Godfrey moved Agamemnon fast behind, following her narrowly through the woods.

They rode for quite some time, Godfrey believed, until the trees began to span out and they were met with lush green grass and soft breaks of sunshine through the crowding of the trees. Godfrey knew they must have been close to a clearing.

Finally Reagan slowed her horse to walk, and Godfrey followed suit, moving to follow close beside her as the trees became further between. Looking to Reagan, he observed how her cheeks were pink from the cool air but her eyes were completely dilated with the thrill of being in the outdoors. It was rather endearing.

"He's magnificent, your steed." Godfrey offered as means of conversation, and Reagan returned the comment with a soft smile. "He knows these woods well."

"As well he should, since we've been riding together for six years," Reagan replied simply, leaning over to stroke her horse's neck. "He was a gift from Thomas's father, a foal from one of the villages' prize mares."

Godfrey couldn't have cared less where the beast came from or who gave him to her, but he was surprised at her obvious affection and attachment towards the animal. Until now, he had only ever seen ladies fawn over small dogs, at most, as if they were children to be dressed and coddled and carried around. A bit sickening, really; it was a pleasant change to see a woman connected with a much more formidable animal.

They continued to walk along, and Godfrey noticed how the mist began to gradually lift around them, and how the trees were lessening more and more. He rose his head and caught a sight which was undeniably blue sky.

"If you'll forgive my inquiry, your lord's father seems quite devoted to you." Godfrey said quite frankly and out of nowhere, but truthfully it had been something he had been wondering since his first arrival. When she looked at him in question, he quickly justified his answer suavely and smoothly. "As to give such a magnificent animal as a gift."

Reagan smiled nervously and looked away from him, turning her attentions ahead of her. "Yes, I suppose he is...devoted to me, as you say. He is the only father I've ever known."

_Ah_, Godfrey thought to himself, suppressing a somewhat knowing smile; he concluded that if the father of her husband to be was, as she said, the only father she ever knew, it became clear to him that she was very likely an orphan, probably without a mother, which explained her preference to riding and hunting, and her slight aversion to keeping house.

Despite having revealed this little telltale knowledge, he was determined to prove himself a gentleman. "Forgive me, it was not my place to pry."

Again Reagan looked at him curiously, as though she had perfectly expected him to pry and had not been expecting an apology. "You need not beg forgiveness, Sir Godfrey, it's the truth, after all. Theodore practically raised me since I was a small child."

Godfrey couldn't help but smile very deviously to himself. He reveled in the fact that he could encourage this otherwise very reserved young woman to open up about her upbringing. He looked to her, feigning sympathetic curiosity. "Oh?"

She looked to him with a strong look in her eyes. "I was born and raised in my village...but my father was killed in the crusades when I was only a baby...and my mother did not outlive him long. When I became an orphan, Theodore took me in as his own."

With these pieces of history placed before him, it took only Godfrey a moment to conclude the rest of the story. Seemingly Theodore himself was without a wife, and Thomas without a mother himself, and so she had grown up in a household of men where hunting and riding and archery were the normal activities of a youth in their village.

It was more than obvious that since Reagan and Thomas had grown up together, that of course they would be best suited to each other for marriage. But Godfrey felt it unwise to voice as much.

They walked only a minute more before coming across a grand clearing. The trees stopped short of a steep hill, the perfect place in which to watch the sun stretch out over the sky, and at the foot of the hill was a calm, serene river. Godfrey surveyed the area for a moment, his eyes focusing on the horizon, hoping his sharp eyes would catch sight of a town, or a larger village, something that would help steer him in the direction to larger civilization. But alas, all he could see was a sweeping field of lush green grass that carried on into more deep, dense forest.

Reagan made a small noise in her throat and turned towards Godfrey, although he was not looking at her. "The horses will be thirsty." She said simply, and motioned her horse down the hill.

Godfrey followed suit, feeling slightly defeated at the lost prospect of finding civilization. But the sun was warm on his face, and that was reward enough for suffering the harsh morning cold that had settled in the trees. He moved Agamemnon down the hill to follow Reagan, who had already dismounted and led her horse to the water, where he bent low to drink. She leaned against him, patting his neck while rubbing her face with her free hand.

Godfrey approached slowly, looking down at the young woman for a moment and marveling, once again, how she seemed to shape shift with each coming day. The previous evening she had been a lovely lady, caring and hospitable to a roaring crowd of hungry villagers. But then, overnight as it seemed, she appeared to change once again into the very huntress Godfrey had mistaken to be a young man only a day previously. She was truly curious, and for a few moments his gaze couldn't be parted from the colour of her hair as it caught in the rising sunlight.

Reagan turned around and looked up at him as he remained seated on Agamemnon, and for a split second he saw that flash of fear in her big green eyes; a sliver of alarm flitted across the features of her pixie face, and when she turned away to hide the flush of her cheeks, Godfrey simply smiled and shook his head in wonder. Did he frighten her? Or perhaps he held the same kind of mystification that she held for him.

He dismounted his horse gracefully and led Agamemnon to the water, while he rubbed his hands together and surveyed his surroundings once more. Nothing but grass and forests, never-ending forests. If he hadn't been quite so anxious to get away and rejoin his brigade, he might have fancied hunting in the forests himself.

His attention was drawn to a rustling noise and he looked over his shoulder to see Reagan remove something from the saddlebag. It appeared to be a small pouch. She swallowed and met his eyes without smiling.

"There are some rare mushrooms on this bank, just beyond these trees." She said, and motioned to the forest that sat directly behind her. "I think I'll gather some for breakfast, if you...don't mind to wait a moment."

Godfrey simply bowed his head and smiled, as polite as could be. "Not at all."

He watched her move away in the direction of the trees before moving towards the river to dip his hands in the icy water.

/

Once Godfrey and the horses were out of sight, Reagan sighed heavily and collapsed against a nearby tree. Her heart had decided to thunder against her chest, completely of its own accord; Reagan knew that it was because she was indulging in an early morning activity that Thomas would certainly disapprove of, since he probably expected her to prepare breakfast at sunrise. But the very idea that she was riding with _him, _with _Godfrey_...

She had always lived a very simply life, and she knew that. She knew from the moment she was orphaned and left to the care of Theodore that she would inevitably become the most plausible match for Thomas, as they were both relatively of the same age and got along fairly well. No one would protest to such a union. And although she had been grateful of Theodore's adoption of her completely without question, and of Thomas's unfailing loyalty towards her...growing up knowing who you were going to spend the rest of your life with was, at times, very disheartening.

Many times there had been dreams of a knight in shining armor, making his gallant way up the road in need of new armor or perhaps a new horse that would serve him well as he battled against England's enemies in violent battles, showing nothing but the most thoughtless bravery. Many times, in Reagan's dreams, this knight in shining armor would sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset, introducing her to a new way of life full of wonder and mystery.

But Reagan had never imagined she would react quite like _this. _There was no use in denying it; although he certainly wasn't her perfect image of the knight in shining armor, there was _something _about him that made her limbs quiver.

Reagan sighed heavily. She was engaged. She had been engaged to Thomas practically since their infantry. There was no questioning the union...no question at all.

And yet...Reagan had never felt anything like what she felt when she looked upon Godfrey, when his eyes met hers, when he smiled those little smiles. She didn't know what it was, or how he was doing it. All she knew was that it had to _stop. _

/

Reagan returned to the clearing with the mushrooms, where Godfrey was tending to the horses. She didn't look him in the eye as she approached, stuffed the mushrooms into her saddlebag, and mounted her horse quickly. "We should really make our way back now, Sir Godfrey." She said, finally looking down at him, her heart aflutter as she met his dark gaze. "Theodore and Thomas will be awaiting us for breakfast."

He smiled up at her, although the thought of breakfast was heavenly, but she interpreted the smile to mean something quite different. It seemed almost...sly. Nevertheless, without a moment to lose, he turned and mounted his horse easily, gathered the reins in his hands, and once again gave her that little smile that was a little bit dashing and a little bit mean all at once.

"Well..." he mused in his deep, lustrous voice, and returned her gaze. "Shall we?"

**/**

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the wait. Coursework blows. :( But I hope you liked it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Very special thanks to **DraggonflyMaiden **and **Random person. **Enjoy the new chapter!

**Daphne**

**Chapter Four**

**/**

The village was abustle with activity when they returned; villagers were out and about, tending to their livestock, chopping wood, and other such activities. After returning the horses to the stables, Godfrey followed Reagan into the house, which was suddenly filled with early morning sunbeams and smelled heavily of fragrant wood and hot spices. Reagan went towards the staircase, presumably to go upstairs to dress, but before doing so she turned around to face him. "Down the hall you'll find breakfast in the kitchen. I'll be down shortly."

Godfrey nodded low, smiling a little, and watched as Reagan ascended the stairs and disappeared down one of the upstairs corridors. Turning towards where she had motioned, Godfrey made his slow way down the hallway. The house seemed quiet until Godfrey approached the kitchen, and Theodore's thunderous voice rolled from the walls and echoed down the hall, causing Godfrey to smile and wince at the same time. He approached the kitchen and could smell bread and cheese and fruit wine. He was grateful; despite the breakfast company, he was rather famished, especially after the ride through the woods.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway into the kitchen, he caught sight of both Theodore and Thomas sitting down at the table where the breakfast feast was spread. Godfrey was immediately greeted warmly by a jolly Theodore, who beamed as soon as their house guest walked in. "Good morning, Sir Godfrey!"

"Good morning gentlemen." Godfrey greeted, nodding to Thomas who was seated at the table, picking at a piece of bread and looking rather unhappy. Thomas returned his greeting with a very half-hearted smile, but said nothing.

"And how did you sleep, Sir Godfrey?" Theodore boomed, beckoning Godfrey to sit down at the table. "I do hope being away from London and the fresh country air has not caused you much restlessness?"

Godfrey sat down tentatively, observing how Thomas would not look at him. "Not at all, Theodore. Your accommodation gave me such ease as to sleep like the dead."

Theodore laughed joyously. "Well now, that is a compliment to the house, if I do say so myself! Eat, Sir Godfrey, please. You must be starved."

Godfrey nodded in acceptance and helped himself to the loaf of bread that he had been eyeing since he sat down at the table. But before he could take a bite, Thomas spoke at last.

"You were gone rather early this morning, Sir Godfrey." Thomas muttered in a low, unimpressed voice, and rose his eyes to look at Godfrey pointedly.

Godfrey smiled only slightly. "Your lady of the house was kind enough to give me a tour of the grounds."

"Yes, and where is dear Reagan?" Theodore asked before Thomas could say anything.

"She went upstairs to wash, I presume." Godfrey informed them politely. "She's brought in mushrooms from the valley."

"Ah, splendid!" Theodore roared. "Mushrooms for good cheese and wine!"

At that, from behind him, Godfrey heard footsteps down the hallway, and turned his head only slightly as Reagan came in slowly. "Good morning," came her voice from over his shoulder.

"There she is, my dear." Theodore said, and rose his arms as though inviting Reagan to embrace him. Reagan rounded the table swiftly to plant a kiss on Theodore's rosy cheek while he embraced her loosely, and Godfrey noticed that she was dressed in another tea gown, this one gray in colour, quite simple but very lovely. She then sat down at the table next to Thomas and kissed his cheek affectionately, even though Thomas did nothing in return.

"And where did you go galavanting with our guest this morning, my dear?" Theodore asked as he took the saddlebag Reagan must have handed to him, and sat himself down at the head of the table.

Godfrey looked to Reagan, who seemed to be doing her best not to look at him. With one hand she swiped loose hair away from her eyes while taking a piece of bread with the other. She didn't look at her father-in-law when she spoke. "We went riding towards the valley by Saint's Creek."

"Ah, lovely this time of morning, is it not Sir Godfrey?" Theodore asked, and Godfrey's attention was pulled to the older man, who turned the saddlebag so mushrooms would spill from its mouth onto a plate on the table.

Godfrey chewed idly on the bread he had taken, already feeling a little annoyed; he was not used to being interrogated at breakfast, much less by a man who's station was so much lower than his own. In London, he woke whenever it pleased him, sometimes early, sometimes late, sometimes alone, and sometimes with a naked woman beside him. And when he had his breakfast, it was alone to assure that dining was a quick affair. Nevertheless, he had no intention of ruining his gentlemanly facade this early into his "hiatus" from knighthood and resolved to engage in the morning's discussions.

"Very lovely indeed," Godfrey remarked pointedly. "With these hills and trees, you live a very rich life, far more lush than the grey solemnness of London."

Across from him, he caught Reagan's eye, as well as the little smile on her lips as she chewed away at a piece of cheese. Having met his eye, she turned her gaze down to the table, while Thomas, at her side, continued to glower at Godfrey as though he saw right through his lies and longed for a chance to reveal him.

The rest of breakfast was without interrogation, as Theodore boomed on and on about the happenings in the village that morning to Thomas and Reagan, who seemed to be listening only half-heartedly. It made Godfrey wonder, as he finished his breakfast, what was to occupy his time here in this village while he waited for his troop to make their way through the forest? There was no way he would be spending his days in the house, in the company of Theodore and Thomas, and yet following Reagan around, as much as he would have enjoyed the girl's reaction to such a thing, would only rouse suspicion in his behavior.

Although, a thought did occur to him, that perhaps his brigade might ride through the forest and not have an inkling whatsoever about this village's existence. He trusted his men to have searching every known village, but stranger things had happened. Someone up road had to be notified.

"Theodore," Godfrey asked in a low, inquisitive tone, drawing the older man's attention. "Might I trouble you for ink and parchment?"

Theodore pat his rotund gut as he chewed and swallowed the last of his bread. "I'm afraid we have none at present, Sir Godfrey, as letter writing has not found its way to our house."

Suffice it to say, none of them could read or write.

"However," Theodore continued, as he raised his cup of sweet wine. "I do believe the potion-maker will have just what you need, Sir Godfrey. She writes for London weekly, if I recall."

That was of some relief to him; for a brief moment he was petrified that no one in the town would have ink and parchment and that they were all illiterate woodsmen. Godfrey couldn't help but smile. "I believe I'll pay her a visit now, if I may."

"Of course, of course," Theodore said after swallowing a gulp of sweet wine. "You'll find her shop at the end of the road, in amongst the market."

"Perhaps one of us should show Sir Godfrey the way?" Droned Thomas unhappily, and Godfrey rose his eyes to meet the young man's, who was still glowering with resentment.

Godfrey tilted his head in a quiet thanks. "The direction as well as company would be most welcome, but I should not like to keep you from your daily activities. I'll be fine to find the potions woman myself."

After a moment, Thomas gave Godfrey a tight, thankless smile, as though a method to his madness had been breached in proposing to show him the way into town. At his side, Reagan was regarding Godfrey somewhat curiously, as though wondering what on earth a man like him would possibly want ink and parchment for.

After finishing the last of his food and wine, Godfrey stood and bid the household a good morning and set out for town, but not before Theodore urged that he would return in the afternoon before it began to darken, to which Godfrey assured his host he would. Before leaving the kitchen, his eyes met with Reagan's and he smiled politely while she only continued to stare after him as though he were a complete mystery she were aching to solve.

/

He made his slow way through the town, taking his time to examine everything he could, both to eat up the time and to allow his mind to wander aimlessly. There were so many things about the village that surprised him; for starters, there were so many children running around, chasing chickens and dogs and each other, screeching and screaming and laughing and giggling, as they played games in the streets or in the yards of their parents' house. He had never seen so many children before; the castle in London was not exactly full of them, unless you counted King John's new mistress, who hardly seemed out of girlhood. He didn't care much for children, as they were too loud and always in the way and always a constant commitment. He would have taken a horse over a son any day: a commitment to keep a good horse, yes, but a horse was a fair companion who didn't ask questions. No contest, at least in his mind.

Another thing that surprised him was the material goods that the villagers seemed to create from nothing. As he made his way slowly into the hustle and bustle of the village's small marketplace, he was astounded to find merchants with finely woven rugs, perfectly whittled wooden flutes, wooden beads and animal claws made into jewelry, scarves out of wolf fur, and the like. The merchants, old women and young men, all looked to him with a kind of admiration in their eyes, as though they were blessed to show a knight from London the fruits of their labour. While he spoke to no one, every one he passed gave him the same look of awe, and a smile as he continued on. It made Godfrey suspicious.

Finally he came to the potion shop, a small wooden hut at the end of the road, and knocking gingerly on the open door, he stepped into the shop and was suddenly overwhelmed by the many different scents and spices that assaulted his nostrils. Although he would not have recognized half the smells he was met with in that shop, he liked the perfume immensely, and wondered if the same herbs used to make the potions were in the surrounding forest, so he might take some back with him to London, when the time came.

An old crone hunched over the counter, grinding something weakly in a mortar and pestle. Behind her, Godfrey could see a pot of something brewing on a flaring fireplace. His curiosity peaked, Godfrey took a step closer, his feet heavy on the wooden floor, abruptly disturbing the old crone from her work. When she peered up, he could only see the milky blue of her eyes, and the facial features that seemed so very tiny to him, lined with significant age. A hood covered her head; Godfrey wouldn't have been surprised if she were bald, or balding.

"Morning there, stranger." The old crone greeted him, making Godfrey grimace. She had a voice like a dying crow. "Wha might I do yeh for, stranger?"

Godfrey stepped closer to the counter, and held the crone's gaze while he desperately wanted to look away. "I'm in need of ink and parchment; I was told you could sell me some."

The crone laughed like some sort of wicked witch out of a fairy tale, and then she pointed a bony finger up towards him. "The best ink this side a'Nottingham, I assure yeh." And then, with speed he never would have guessed an old crone of possessing, she hopped up off her stool and made her creaky way into a door on the other side of the counter, presumably to fetch the items he needed. Godfrey waited patiently, taking a few coins from his wallet and holding them in his hand until the crone returned with a small bundle wrapped in paper and tied with twine.

"Here ye are, stranger," she cackled. "Finest ink in Nottingham. Might I say, stranger, ye may want te use horsetail on yer face there." With a bony finger, she traced along the side of her lip, where Godfrey's scar marred his face, and instantly he felt his nose curl. "It'll take away the redness."

Regarding her hatefully, Godfrey paid the amount due, took the items, and left the shop without bidding the crone farewell. Quickly, and hoping he didn't have to come into contact with any more of the village's questionable characters, he returned the way he came up towards Theodore's house. He told himself that as soon as he came back to this village to ravage it of its goods for taxes, that crone in the potion shop would be the first.

No one disrespected the chancellor of King John.

As he neared Theodore's house, before reaching the door, a series of sounds stopped him in his place. It sounded like two people...quarreling. As Godfrey stopped himself a moment to listen, he recognized the one whiny, pathetic voice to be Thomas's, and the other, which was strong yet feminine most undoubtedly belonged to Reagan. But the sounds were not coming from within the house; they were coming from behind.

Cautiously, Godfrey tucked his ink and parchment package under one arm and carefully made his way around the corner of the house, listening as the arguing became stronger. He stayed close to the wall, keeping an ear open to the air, wondering what on earth they could be fighting about.

"For _goodness sake_, Thomas," That was Reagan, sounding exasperated and tired. "We went out to Saint's Creek and back, we went no further."

Godfrey couldn't help but completely _delight_ in what he was hearing. Were the two happy lovers quarreling because he, Sir Godfrey, had had the _gall _to ride with the lady of the house so early in the morning, and without the accompany of her husband to be? Smiling a little to himself, he continued to listen, anxious to hear every word.

"How do you suppose that represents the house, hmm?" Thomas asked in response, sounding calm but relatively annoyed. "Is it _proper _for the lady of the house to go galavanting into the woods with a house guest so early in the morning?"

"He asked if I would show him the surrounding woods, and I obliged, like a good housekeeper would! What's the harm in that?" Reagan countered; Godfrey could tell by the sound of her voice that she was becoming increasingly impatient with him.

"Suppose for one moment, Reagan, that he isn't who he says he is. Who's to know if he's really a knight from London? He could be some bandit from the country! For all _I _know, he kidnapped you this morning, against your will, intending to take you far off into the woods, and we would be nary the wiser!"

Godfrey felt a smile stretch across his face. While that hadn't been his initial plan, obviously, he was definitely going to think back on that later.

This point had not impressed Reagan at all. "Thomas, don't be so ridiculous! He's been the perfect gentleman! Why, just yesterday, when I came upon him in the woods, he said he wouldn't hear of having a lady walk to show him the way, so we shared his horse -"

"You _rode _in the _same saddle?_" Thomas's voice rose to such an inhuman pitch with sheer audacity that it made Godfrey chuckle in his throat.

Reagan huffed angrily. "Oh, I simply _cannot_ talk to you when you are this way! I am going _inside_."

At that moment, Godfrey straightened himself up, came away from the wall, and pretending as though he were just coming around the house, distracted by all the noise. To his surprise, as he rounded the corner, he nearly came into full contact with Reagan, who looked up at him briefly, muttered an apology, and went storming around him. Godfrey watched her go, and then turned back to look at Thomas, who was standing idly by the tree in the yard.

"I'm sorry..." Godfrey offered in mock apology. "I heard voices and...I certainly hope I've not interrupted anything."

Thomas was rubbing his face, looking tired and angry, and upon seeing Godfrey he simply rose his hand and shook his head, to wave it all away. "Not at all, Sir Godfrey, just a simple misunderstanding, that's all."

Godfrey nodded, and then gestured behind him. "Should we...go after her?"

"No," Thomas snapped, a little too quickly, and then made his way towards the house. "Let her stew a bit, she was being unreasonable."

As Thomas walked past him, Godfrey felt compelled to follow close behind. Thomas groaned loudly and turned to look at Godfrey over his shoulder. "I do believe I neglected to ask, Sir Godfrey: are you a married man?"

Godfrey smiled a little to himself, thinking back on the countless opportunities he could have had to marry a noblewoman from the King's court. But, the way he saw things, there was no point in committing yourself to one woman when you had the entire court at your disposal. He remembered how the ladies of the court would stare at him when he passed them in the castle courtyards, or in the markets, and how they had tittered behind their fans when gathered together in throne room. Frankly, the idea did not appeal to him, and although perhaps..._perhaps_...he would have liked to have a son one day, he was not yearning for it anytime soon.

"I'm not," Godfrey replied, as they rounded the corner to the house and Thomas laid a hand on the doorknob. "Unfortunately, the duties of knighthood are far too...demanding."

"Hmm," Thomas muttered in reply, obviously not all that interested in hearing Godfrey's reply in the first place. They stepped into the warm, sunny house together, and Thomas simply shrugged as he made his way towards the staircase. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Between hunting a wild boar who could pull your limbs off with his teeth, and living with the wife at home...frankly there are days I would rather risk the boar."

Godfrey stopped and watched him ascend the staircase and disappear into one of the halls upstairs, sneering in disgust. He was convinced at that point that not only did he despise the loathsome master of the house, who had so graciously asked him to stay, but that he was suddenly rather determined to make the rest of his stay as unbearable as possible for the man.

Smiling a little to himself, Godfrey walked out of the foyer to the house, down the hallway towards his room, where he would write the letter to notify his brigade of his presence in the little forest town, should they past the road.

**/**

**A/N: Kinda short, sorry about that. Next one should be longer.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Very special thanks to **playxhardx187, SilverMoonPanther, Mandie, **and** Jokerlover92 **for your reviews!

**Daphne**

**Chapter Five**

**/**

It was mid afternoon by the time Godfrey was finished writing his letter; it had turned into a gray, misty day, and when Godfrey set out down the road, he could feel the cold seep in through his simple tunic and begin to chill his skin. He moved with a swiftness as he passed the stables and went over the hill, heading towards the road that would lead him up into the trees. The people were out in abundance, rushing this way and that, going on with daily tasks and household chores, and as Godfrey passed them he kept his head down, not interested in making eye contact, although he could feel eyes on him from each direction at every moment.

It was only too much of a blessing for Godfrey to move into the trees, leaving the noise of the village behind him. He basked in the silence of the trees, listening to them breathe as they swallowed him, clouding overhead so he could no longer see the gray of the miserable sky, soaking up any sound so that he all he could hear were his own footsteps. It was bliss.

The silence gave him peace of mind in which to think on things, and he was beginning to have second thoughts. What if his army never were to pass the road that led to this isolated village? Would he be stuck there for more than days? Weeks, even? Could he even stand it? What was he going to do, if he was holed up in the village for so long? Surely he would go mad amongst these simple village folk. He had to come up with an alternative plan.

A bird called overhead in the trees, and Godfrey looked up but all that met his eyes was the rich green canopy hanging over him. He wondered, if it were to start raining, if it would even meet the ground beneath his feet; the trees were so dense and the air so heavy. He sucked in great greedy breaths of cool air; it was then he heard brisk footsteps coming out of the trees behind him.

"Do you deliberately disregard warnings, Sir Godfrey?"

Godfrey slowed his steps, smiling wickedly to himself. There was fast becoming no other sound in the word he delighted in hearing more than her voice, if only to hear it quake in his presence.

Coming to a halt, he pivoted on his heel and turned to meet her. She came towards him quickly, a bundle of green herbs in her white hands, her strawberry hair a brilliant contrast against the green that surrounded them. Her eyes were wide but he could see the hint of exasperation buried within them, whether it was with him because he was wandering the forest alone, or with Thomas due to their earlier argument. He didn't know, but he was sure he was about to find out.

"Warnings, milady?" He asked, his voice rolling off his tongue like rumbling thunder.

She came to sidle beside him, giving him a fishy look. "As I've told you before, wandering by yourself in these woods is especially dangerous."

Godfrey smirked as she stopped next to him, and he gave her a quick once over, just to delight in the way her fingers tightened around the herbs she held. "And you, milady? I suppose you're better prepared than I?"

He pointed with his finger to the long trails of her tea gown. Secretly he wanted to take the folds of the fabric between his fingers, just to feel its softness, but he didn't dare in that moment, and turned his gaze up to her once more. He knew he was right; she didn't even appear to have a blade on her person; what protection, if any, did she have against whatever might meet them?

There was a playfulness in her eyes that he could not ignore as she stared up at him. "I've known these woods since I was but a child; I can find my way back in a matter of minutes."

Godfrey smirked, not positive if she was being serious or if she was just baiting him. "Tripping over your gown in the process?"

A tiny smile splayed on her pink lips, and drawing her eyes back to the road, she began to walk, and Godfrey, smiling to himself, stepped forward to walk beside her.

"I understand your lord did not...approve of our early ride this morning." Godfrey carefully mentioned, keeping his eyes on the woods ahead of them. He didn't want to blatantly point out that he'd heard them fighting, which would have been most ungentlemanly indeed, but perhaps alluding to it was a more careful way to approach a subject he wanted to talk about.

Beside him Reagan bowed her head, threading the herbs in-between her long white fingers as if he they were feathers. He could tell she was embarrassed.

"I must apologize," she said, lifting her big green eyes to meet his. "Thomas is prone to...overreactions. He's been this way since we were children."

Godfrey made a thoughtful sound in his throat, as though to intimate that he wasn't quite sure what she was talking about. "Overreactions?"

She sighed a little heavily as though she didn't want to discuss it at all and yet felt that it had to be brought out to the open right away. "To be truthful, he was positively livid when he learned of our ride to Saint's Creek this morning," she said. "He seems to be under the impression that you are some...rogue come to sully our quaint little town with your dark ways."

Reagan tittered nervously, and Godfrey too laughed a little as though it were nonsense; he couldn't help but notice she didn't mention the theory Thomas had that he, Godfrey, was a bandit of London come to carry her away into the woods, a sure sign that she thought it was pure ludicrous and didn't want to offend him by mentioning it...or perhaps she liked the idea enough to keep it to herself. It pleased him immensely.

"So sorry to disappoint," Godfrey said, somewhat cheerfully.

Reagan looked up at him and gave him a full bright smile, as though she couldn't believe his good-natured response to such a ridiculous notion. "I've told him you've been nothing but a gentleman, but of course once Thomas has an idea in his head..."

She stopped herself and pressed her lips together. She figured she'd said enough. After all, Godfrey had indeed proven himself to be a perfect gentleman, what would he think of her as a lady who groused about her fiancee?

Of course Godfrey couldn't help but smile to himself. He found it especially interesting how all he had to do was be on his best behaviour in order to have this young woman entrust some of her deepest thoughts to him, thoughts that she'd obviously longed to voice to a confidant for some time.

"Perhaps I should speak with him," Godfrey suggested, in a careful tone. "Apologize, even; I have no wish whatsoever to cause trouble for you."

He couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth; he loved it. He could have laughed!

Reagan smiled to herself, and Godfrey spied it, knowing that once again he had won her favour over the reasoning of her jealous fiancee. "That won't be necessary, Sir Godfrey, but I thank you for your consideration. Thomas will simply have to-"

Suddenly, behind them, there came a great screeching sound unlike anything Godfrey had heard before. Looking sharply over his shoulder, he only caught the glimpse of a large, dark figure coming towards them at ample speed directly from the trees, and he reacted quickly.

Reagan gasped, and in a second Godfrey seized her, curling one of his arms around her thin waist and pulling her towards him; holding her tightly he spun them out of the way just as the giant figure rushed past them. Their feet stumbled in the loose dirt, and while Reagan immediately lost her footing, Godfrey maintained his stance and held her tighter. He would have taken great delight in feeling her arms grasping his arm and shoulder, in feeling her press her body against him for protection...if only his attention wasn't drawn to the enormous wild boar that had charged them, that they had _just_ narrowly dodged.

The boar slowed and rounded ahead of them. In an instant Godfrey drew his sword, and while he felt Reagan's panicked fingers clasping his tunic, he released her, and ushered her away with his hand. "Go, go!"

For a moment Reagan seemed hesitant to leave him to fight the boar on his own, but then, without another moment's hesitation she grasped the folds of her gown, lifted them from the ground, and moved quickly towards the trunk of a large tree.

Godfrey kept his eye trained on the boar. It was large, about the size of a small pony. Godfrey had never hunted one before, but he knew of their grisly reputations. He had to be at his utmost guard.

The boar snorted, its breath like great clouds in the cool air, and it rounded on Godfrey and seemed to narrow its black eyes, letting out a great squealing noise as it stomped its hooves and lowered its head. Godfrey readied himself; he knew the thing was about to charge him, and while he had meant to call to Reagan to go back to the village, the boar then charged and Godfrey readied his blade.

But the beast was crafty, and it seemed quite a bit larger than he first imagined. Godfrey raised his sword but the boar caught sight of it and charged around him as Godfrey swung the blade. Godfrey knew he'd underestimated the great girth of the boar when he was brushed with the beast's hind-end and nearly knocked off his feet. He collected himself and jumped back to position.

But the boar seemed to have other ideas. It was stomping its hooves and lowered its head, and Godfrey could see its intimidating tusks and the drool that escaped its jowls. Only it wasn't targeting Godfrey; it'd caught sight of Reagan.

Godfrey spied Reagan pressing herself against the trunk of the tree where she'd been hiding, and it seemed as though she were frozen to the spot. He looked to the boar and realized it was going to charge her instead of him, and he called to Reagan to get her attention. "Reagan!"

But then he realized what she was about to do. She stretched one arm out around the trunk of the tree, and she never tore her eyes away from the boar. He watched her footing; she had one heel pivoted in the dirt. Carefully Godfrey set his sword down on the ground, pulled his dagger from his belt, and watched the boar, readying himself to spring forward.

Finally the boar let out a terrifying screech and charged at Reagan, and although he could see her trembling, Godfrey watched as she waited until the very last opportune moment and then she rounded about the trunk of the great tree, clear out of the way of the boar's charge, and the beast, realizing its target had suddenly disappeared, turned to evade the tree, but too late. The boar bashed the side of its head into the trunk, slowed, and that was when Godfrey leapt forward.

He jumped on the boar's broad back, despite the beast's screech of fury, and Godfrey rose his dagger and plunged it deep into the boar's spine, using it to steady himself as the boar let out a great shriek and tried to shake him off. Godfrey steadied himself as the boar took a few steps and once again tried to shake him off. Godfrey, with one hand twisted tightly in the boar's mane, pulled his dagger from the boar's back, trying to ignore the black blood that spurted forward, and with all his might he plunged the dagger into the boar's side as forcefully as he could.

This time the boar did shake hard enough and Godfrey was thrown from the beast, forced to let go of the dagger. He rolled on the dirt and had to take a moment to collect himself before he realized the boar had rounded on him and was charging him with newfound fury.

But the glint of a blade in the low light caught his eye, and he watched as Reagan held Godfrey's sword and lifted it as high as she could and swiped its tip to slice the boar's side. It worked, for the boar screeched once again and dodged Godfrey, rounding sharply on Reagan, who held the sword tightly with its tip out.

But Godfrey knew the beast was too big for her, and it would easily overcome her. Fast as he could he stumbled to his feet, just as the boar charged her once again, and with all his might pushed himself into the boar's side, colliding with a broad wall of pure muscle, and he didn't know how it'd happened, but he'd managed to push the boar over onto its side.

Quickly, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and arms, he rose himself up, turning to look at Reagan over his shoulder. She stepped forward and tossed him his sword, and Godfrey took hold of its hilt, gripped it tightly, and swiped horizontally along the boar's soft belly, watching as it split open, its innards leaking through, and the boar let out a miserable sound for a few moments before it quieted and stilled.

Godfrey stood and panted, trying to catch his breath, but holding his sword at the ready in case the boar was still alive. But he could already see that the beast had stopped breathing, and its innards were beginning to spill onto the cold dirt ground beneath it. Godfrey took in a few breaths and planted the tip of his sword into the dirt.

Behind him, Godfrey heard Reagan approach carefully, stopping right at his shoulder, and Godfrey turned towards her.

Her eyes went to his tunic and a look of worry overcame her soft features. She stepped forward and brushed her fingers against his chest. "Sir Godfrey, you're bleeding!"

Godfrey looked down at this tunic and saw what she meant; there was black boar blood all over the front of his tunic, probably from the dagger wound, and as he allowed himself to calm down, he realized just how much he was enjoying feeling her fingers pressed cautiously against his chest.

Gently, he took her white fingers in his and lifted them again from his sullied tunic. Reagan looked up at Godfrey, her wide green eyes full of question, and he eased just the tiniest smile for her. "It's the boar's blood, milady."

Reagan pressed her lips together, reddening in the cheeks, and for a split second she curled her fingers around his before pulling out of his grasp completely, stepping away from him. For a moment Godfrey almost wished he had been injured in the struggle, just to see that look of concern in her big eyes once again, and feel the touch of her perfect fingers on his muscles.

They both turned and looked down at the boar. The poor beast's tongue had lolled out of its mouth, and its innards were slowly seeping out and staining the ground. But Godfrey couldn't help but smile to himself; there would be definite feasting that night.

"Go back to the village," he said to Reagan over his shoulder. "We can't possibly drag him back by ourselves."

When he didn't hear her footsteps, and the air was quiet and calm between them, Godfrey turned towards Reagan. She was staring at him very intently, with her fingers curled in the material of her dress, all the blood drained out of her face. Godfrey thought for a moment that she was in shock, so he stepped forward and gripped her shoulder lightly to bring her out of it.

"Are you all right?" he asked clearly, watching her eyes.

She swallowed tightly and nodded, easing just a tiny smile. "I am, I..." she looked away, cleared her throat, and then raised her eyes again. "I'm fine, I'll go to the village right away."

And then she pulled out of Godfrey's grip and walked past him, briskly, crossing her arms over her chest with her eyes on the ground, and Godfrey watched her go until she was clear out of view.

**/**

Reagan paced relentlessly at the door to the great hall, waiting to hear that Godfrey and the others had come back with the boar. Once she'd arrived at the village after the kill, she sent several of their fine young hunters to go and meet with Godfrey and bring the boar back. The news of the kill had spread quickly throughout the village. Many of the young ladies were tittering about the stranger and how he'd taken down the beast, forget that Reagan had had her hand in the kill as well, but she didn't bother correcting them. She was too confused and conflicted.

She had been so terrified when she saw the blood on his tunic, after the boar was dead. She thought for sure he had been cut and was bleeding profusely. His nonchalant reaction to her concern would have normally given her pause, but she remembered how he'd taken her hands in his, how intently he'd looked at her, and just how unfazed he was about it all, just how..._strong _he was. This man too was a true hunter at heart, quite unlike anything she'd ever beheld before.

Reagan was still pacing when a commotion caused her to look up towards the road. She saw the village children running to greet Godfrey and the other hunters as they dragged the boar along the dirt road by its tusks and legs, and all over the people were talking amongst themselves about how large the boar was, and about how they would feast on its meat. Reagan smiled haplessly as they brought the boar to the great hall.

When Godfrey raised his eyes to her, she smiled a little and noticed how his face and clothes were soiled with blood and dirt. When the three young hunters took the boar into the great hall to be roasted for dinner, Godfrey stopped to wash his hands in the trough, and Reagan approached him.

"Come," she said, gently placing a hand on his arm, surprising him. "I'll wash your tunic so it doesn't stain; come up to the house."

Although he seemed exhausted, she could see the relief in his features, and the gratefulness in his dark eyes. He didn't say a word, he simply followed behind her as they walked to Theodore's house.

Reagan desperately tried to ignore the noises of the young ladies they passed, tittering and giggling, and she refrained the urge to glare at them. Godfrey, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile to himself. Not only had he won over the approval of the other young ladies of the village, but it appeared as though Reagan wouldn't share him with them.

**/**

When they returned to the house, Godfrey was surprised, but delighted, to hear Reagan insist that she wash his tunic and draw him a bath. He hadn't been aware they had a bathtub in the house but then he supposed it was used rarely, when they had the water to spare and enough fire to heat the water. When he was in London, he enjoyed baths immensely, and enjoyed them whenever he wished, but he knew it was because they had extra hands to make preparing a bath that much easier. It appeared Reagan would prepare his bath all by herself. This only delighted him further.

Reagan had in fact gathered volunteers from the close vicinity of the house to help her prepare the bath for the stranger who had killed the boar, namely a couple of the young ladies who were only too eager to help her and seemed anxious to catch a glimpse of the stranger within the house. When the bath was ready, Reagan shooed them away out of the house, annoyed at their tittering and whispering, and she was laying out spare clothes for Godfrey when she heard him come in.

She smiled uncertainly as he came inside, his skin and attire looking that much dirtier in the low firelight, and she motioned to the clothes she had left him. "If you'll leave the soiled tunic, I'll have it washed, and I've set these out for you in the meantime."

Godfrey's eyes were drawn to the vat of hot water, and there was an anxious gleam in his eyes, as though he were simply dying to get clean. Reagan decided she certainly wouldn't overstay her welcome, so she simply slipped past him and moved towards the door.

Godfrey watched her, for it seemed as though something was dying to be said between the two of them, and yet it was unclear what. And then, just as she was about to leave, she placed a hand on the frame of the door, paused, and turned to look at him over her shoulder.

There was a mix of admiration and embarrassment in her eyes, and Godfrey didn't know why. Her voice was shaky when she spoke. "Thank you, for what you did today. You're...you were right, I wasn't well prepared."

Then she bowed her head a little. "I feel...foolish. That boar could have very well killed me, unarmed as I was."

Godfrey listened to her and he wanted to grin but he only beheld her with a touch of fondness; he had the utmost urge to step forward and place his hand on her shoulder, gently touch the small of her back, graze her jawbone with a knuckle, to give her the assurance that she was obviously looking for, put her embarrassment to ease.

He took one step forward but didn't dare move any closer, for her eyes rose to meet him, full of question and a touch of alarm, and so he stopped, and stood where he was, and was rather taken aback, for a split second, by just how lovely she looked in the low firelight.

"I assure you, milady..." Godfrey spoke slowly, and sensually. "It would have never come close."

Her features reacted to his comment. Her eyes widened and glimmered, and the corners of her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. It was there for a split moment, and then she quietly excused herself, closing the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps continuing down the hallway.

Godfrey drew in a deep breath and let it out in a deep sigh, running a hand over his shaven head, and hastily undressed so that he could bathe and scrub himself clean. The water was scalding, just as he liked it, and seared his skin as he washed away the dirt, grime, and boar's blood.

But as he bathed, he looked at his arms and was overcome with thoughts of sharing his bath with Reagan. He thought of having her long fingers wash his aching, well-muscled limbs, of her long hair clinging to her wet skin, and the bathwater turning her creamy white skin into a delightful pink.

/


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Omg, two years since updating...**DX. Very special thanks to **DraggonflyMaiden, 94kgirly, jokergurl92, **and **MorNor **for your reviews! I know it's been a long time since I've updated and I'm sorry; I've got some awesome things planned for this story and I know it'd be crappy to abandon it, so I'm gonna really try to finish it, I promise. :)

**Daphne**

**Chapter Six**

**/**

When Godfrey emerged from the bath, he felt like a new man, clean and fresh, and dressed in a simple dark blue tunic that was light on his skin after sitting submerged in such hot water for so long. But when he came into the house, he found it very quiet, even though the dinner hour was upon them, and he figured the members of the household would be readying themselves to feast over the prize boar.

He had specifically hoped to run into Reagan before dinner and thank her for insisting on drawing a bath, as it had revitalized him completely. The day's events were a welcome change of pace both physically and mentally, the thrill of the hunt exercising his adrenaline, and he had considered, as he was deliberating in the bath, just how nice it would be to spend his time in the village hunting the forest, knowing that King John would never find out about a kill that was not rightfully his to make.

Godfrey also delighted in the thought of hunting with Reagan at his side. He had watched her carefully with the boar; she was very swift indeed, and careful not to take her eyes off him. He'd only wished she had been in her usual hunting attire, with her weapons, to see her take down such a formidable beast. He had never known a woman as a hunter, _ever_, and it was both quite a shock but at the same time quite thrilling to watch her in the process.

On the other hand, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed coming to her rescue.

As Godfrey moved into the foyer of the house, he was met with great booming footsteps coming from down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, and in the low light of the setting sun through the windows, Godfrey beheld Theodore, who approached him with a massive smile on his red face.

"Ah, Sir Godfrey," Theodore hailed in a voice loud enough to shake the house. "At last you emerge, I thought you might have drowned in the tub."

Godfrey fought the urge to roll his eyes and sneer, as he usually would have, and instead gave his host a gentle smile. "The bath was much needed, and very much appreciated."

"And well deserved," Theodore said, clapping him on the shoulder with a big, meaty hand. "I've heard it was you we have to thank for our feast tonight. I've seen the beast, quite a massive thing, indeed, and for you to have taken it down single-handedly-"

"I have to credit your ward, she was a valuable assist to the kill," Godfrey corrected gently, as they left the house in the direction of the great hall, where the village people were beginning to migrate.

"And so you both shall have your pick of the carcass!" Theodore laughed, and abandoned Godfrey to turn his attentions to some other meandering villager, minding their own business, for which Godfrey was most thankful. He'd never had a tolerance for animated characters; in their long, close friendship, it had taken every strength of Godfrey's willpower not to skewer King John on days where he was most vocal and childish. A quiet, calculative character was someone he much preferred to accompany.

As Godfrey continued towards the great hall, he began to notice how his reputation as the stranger who had killed the boar was affecting the people. He met eyes wherever he looked, gaining nods of either appreciation or respect from the men, both young and old, and sheepish smiles from the children who didn't turn away from his gaze. When he entered the great hall, it was not noisy enough that he did not notice the small clusters of the ladies who would watch him, whisper and giggle and titter to each other, and then turn their gazes away, red in the apples of their cheeks.

It made him smile, knowing that if he liked, he could probably have any of his choosing of the young women in the village, and they would come ready to his beckoning. But of course it was never so simple; in London there were vast numbers of women ample for seducing without fear of the consequences, a habit he took to quite frequently, sometimes every day in a week. But in a small village, it was much more difficult; a maiden's honour was sacred in those parts, and news of her deflowering would spread quickly, debunking his status as a gentleman and a hunter and they would be likely to run him out of town. And that simply wouldn't do.

And, of course, he didn't want to offend his gracious hosts by committing such a heinous act under their roof.

Besides, in all truthfulness, there was only one young lady in the entire village that truly tickled his fancy enough that, if the opportunity arose, he wouldn't hesitate for a single second. It was lucky for them both that she was spoken for.

Scanning the great hall, he was quite pleased to see Reagan overseeing the roasting of the boar over the great open fire, chatting with some of the older women of the village assigned with the similar task, and his eyes roved to the table where they usually ate and beheld Thomas sitting by himself, inspecting his dagger and sipping from a goblet.

Being the modest gentleman that he was, supposedly, he still wouldn't pass up the chance to subtly gloat over his impressive kill.

Godfrey approached the table, and even though the noise of the hall was great, Godfrey's own footsteps were still quite heavy on the planks, and still Thomas didn't look up from his task. It was only until Godfrey was seated next to him, and poured himself a goblet of wine, that Thomas acknowledged his presence, not by looking at him, but instead only in speaking.

"I do believe thanks are in order, Sir Godfrey," Thomas spoke somewhat lowly and miserably, and Godfrey turned and looked at the sullen young man. "For our feast tonight. It's been a very long time since we've had the pleasure of roast boar meat."

Godfrey could tell by the tone in his voice that Thomas was impressed, but at the same time annoyed, naturally jealous that he, who Theodore had declared to be the greatest hunter in the village, had not made the kill himself. He was also made curious by the fact that no one seemed to attribute Reagan's hand in the kill at all; then again he was not about to go bringing it up. Telling Thomas that Godfrey and Reagan had been alone in the woods together when the boar attacked would only draw further questions and lead to more suspicion...

But perhaps there was a spot of fun to be had in that as well. "The victory is in no small part due to your fiancee," he said admirably, nodding in Reagan's direction, watching how her hair seemed to come aflame with the firelight. "She is...impressively nimble when met with such a dangerous confrontation."

Animosity seemed to pour from every fiber of the Thomas's being, and Godfrey couldn't help but just _delight _in it.

"Yes," Thomas said at last, miserably. "Perhaps she'll grace me with..._nimble _sons, four or five of them, so that they all might go galavanting through the forest together."

While Godfrey wanted to laugh at how blatantly jealous Thomas was being, he also wanted to pound the man's face into the tabletop for speaking of her so callously. At that point Godfrey quieted, tasting his wine and finding it particularly strong, and wondered just how much of it Thomas had had at that point.

At long last, it seemed, Theodore emerged and joined them, and soon after there was much drinking as the boar's carcass was carved and the meat was divided amongst the tables. As Godfrey became distracted by one of Theodore's stories, he watched carefully as Reagan came and sat herself down next to Thomas, and the very little that was said between them seemed to be tenuous and awkward; Godfrey had to hide his glee.

Finally, after a time, Theodore stood up and called the great hall to attention. A great hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to watch Theodore as he rose his goblet.

"Friends," he bellowed into the hall, raising his goblet as high as he might. "Relatives, and all who gather here to join us in feast, let us all give thanks to the Lord above for his bounty."

Godfrey watched the hall as they rose their goblets and tankards, some shouting in concession, the rest of them smiling fondly.

"And let us also give thanks to Sir Godfrey, guest and friend of our house and good company, for it is he who valiantly fought and defeated the beast that graces our supper plates tonight," Theodore reached down and clapped a heavy hand on Godfrey's shoulder, while wine sloshed out of his goblet, and Godfrey forced himself to smile as he knew all eyes in the hall were on him at that moment. Theodore looked down at Godfrey and clapped his shoulder once more, harder. "Sir Godfrey, to your health and your valor and your fine huntsman's skills. You shall forever be welcome in my house and at my table."

Godfrey forced himself to stand and take Theodore's massive hand in a strong handshake while the hall erupted in cheers and _hear hears _and even catcalls from some of the women. Godfrey raised a hand to the hall and then sat himself down before Theodore could encourage him to say a word or two about the kill or about his host or about the village, god forbid.

It seemed furthest from Theodore's mind, however; he gestured for the crowd to settle down and then held out a hand to the carcass at the fire. "Now friends, while the night is young, let us sup!"

The carcass was carved and served in plentiful portions, and Godfrey helped himself to several cuts, feeling it was, after all, owed to him for making the kill; he feasted on the boar meat and roast vegetables and drank a cup or two of the strong wine but was careful not to get carried away; the hall was alive with feasting and chatter, and wherever he looked, he continued to catch eyes with villagers, men and women alike, both in admiration and in curiosity. At his side, Thomas continued to drink and ate very little of the prized meat and said nary a word the entire meal, which delighted Godfrey to no end; several points throughout the meal he hoped Thomas would excuse himself so that he might have opportunity to sit next to and converse with Reagan, though the opportunity never rose.

Within an hour the general feasting was over and the merry drinking began; the musicians of the village came forth with their flutes, lutes, and drums and began to play festive music. Godfrey watched as the village children got up from their tables to take part in dancing and games, the townsfolk conversed with each other happily, animatedly, and eagerly; beside him, Theodore spoke jovially with another high member of the village, bellowing his great laugh and slapping his hand on the table, and on his other side Thomas continued to drink, having ignored Reagan throughout the entire meal and not bothering to stop her when she stood to converse with the young ladies gathering at one of the large tables. Godfrey watched her carefully, smiling to himself behind his goblet; if she had been put off by being discrediting in the kill of the boar, she didn't show it at all. As soon as she left Thomas's side from the table, she was smiling and laughing and speaking easily with the other girls, careful to have her back to him at all times, as though trying to distance herself from him. He knew she was still embarrassed about what had happened in the woods, and he began to wonder how he might ease her embarrassment.

He set down his goblet and turned towards Thomas, who had barely touched his meal and continued to drink. The young man had his eyes set on the surface of the table. "Did you enjoy the meat, milord?" Though he could not have given a damn what Thomas thought at all.

Thomas made a strange noise in his throat, neither affirmative or negative to the question, and when he spoke his words were slurred. "I've no taste for meat tonight, you'll forgive me, Sir Godfrey."

It would have pleased him to take his dagger and cut the boy's tongue from his mouth and throw it to the dogs. Instead, he stood. "Of course, milord."

He abandoned Thomas easily and set his sights on Reagan and where she sat with the young ladies with her back turned to him; the music had roused something of a spring in his step, and as other villagers had taken part in a dance in front of the fire, he saw no reason why he might not indulge the same way. True, music was of little delight to him in the court of the king in London, and dancing even less, but he was almost aching for the light feathery touch of her fingers, and he knew Thomas was watching his every move.

As he approached the table, Godfrey couldn't help but manage a small smile for the ladies who turned to watch him approach, their eyes wide with fascination. Reagan, her attention piqued by their reaction, turned and looked up at him over her shoulder. She smiled a little, though apprehensively, and the light from the fire made her skin shimmer like gold. "Sir Godfrey."

He leaned down close, as though to whisper in her ear. "Might I have the next dance, milady?"

Her smile was gone and her eyes widened, and behind her the ladies gasped and then giggled and tittered, whether by his proposal or by Reagan's obvious shock, he wasn't sure, but Godfrey only smiled at them as dashingly as he could while Reagan nervously looked around, anywhere but directly at him, and cleared her throat. "You may."

She took his hand gingerly when he offered it and she stood and stepped away from the table, meeting his gaze only once and with a quick, polite smile. He led her to the floor, where the music had softened to signify a basse danse, and the dancers aligned themselves accordingly. Though he'd danced with many of the finest ladies of the London court in his time, Godfrey'd never known one to dance any finer than the last, even as the ladies seemed to hold each other in some esteem over the matter.

What he did know was that Reagan was _not _a dancer in the least; though she knew the moves, her steps her not graceful, and she had a hard time keeping with the rhythm, and her hand shook in his own and she kept her eyes cast down, and even though Godfrey's mind went wild with how the ladies of London would have judged her poor performance, he couldn't help but feel endeared to her further. A huntress, yet a lady, but not a dancer. She was an odd creature to behold indeed, and she fascinated him.

He was fully aware of the audience they had as well; he kept his eyes on her, as was custom to the danse, but he listened for the giggling and fluttery gossip of the ladies and the low murmuring of the men from where they sat at their tables. At any given time during the danse, his attention was directed away from where Thomas was sitting, and it peeved him slightly; how he would have loved to see the look on the boy's face of the gallant stranger dancing with his fiancee. And yet he knew exactly how Theodore would have looked upon such a gesture: with kindness and good intention.

When the dance finished and they turned to face each other, Reagan curtseying as was the move and Godfrey bowing in return, they straightened up and she managed a sweet smile for him, colour flushing her cheeks. "I'm afraid, Sir Godfrey, my dancing must seem quite shameful compared to what you're used to."

"Oh no, my lady," he said, drawing her close and watching the smile fall from her lips. "You do yourself a disservice. Truly, you dance divinely."

And, holding up her hand, he brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Reagan's eyes widened and shimmered in the firelight with the gesture, and just as easily as he invited her to dance, he let go of her hand and eased himself away. He knew, with all eyes watching them as they were, he had to continue his guise as ever the gentleman, polite, yet not forward; he would not let it be ruined now, when it was so firmly established.

He turned his back on Reagan, knowing her eyes were on him as he went, and he met the eyes of no one else as he made his way towards the doors.

"Sir Godfrey," called Theodore from his seat, and Godfrey withheld the urge to roll his eyes and instead turned to his host with a smile. "Surely you're not retiring to bed already? The night is young!"

"You'll forgive me, milord; the kill demanded the day's energy and now the drink is inspiring sleep," but he bowed his head. "I bid you goodnight."

"Ah, pity," said Theodore, as he poured wine down his gullet. "But sleep well, good man. You've earned it."

In his mind he thanked Theodore for not taking up any more of his time; truthfully, he was exhausted; the kill and then the bath had worn him out, and all he wanted more than anything, at that moment, was to collapse into bed and sleep. He continued past Theodore towards the doors, where he was met with the cool, fresh evening air, but not before looking over his shoulder to spot Reagan, having returned to her seat next to Thomas; the two of them were suddenly speaking quite animatedly, though it was impossible to hear their conversation.

Godfrey left the hot humidity of the great hall and walked into the enclosing darkness as the sun set behind the trees and the crickets began to sing. He continued towards the house, completely unable to keep the smile off his face.

/


End file.
